


Coward

by sulkysheep



Series: Gutters [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (again), Angst, Death, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, but that’s about it, dean is :(, its more implied destiel than anything else, not fun times, ouchy, sam is referenced, sorry sam!!!!, what is happiness???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 17:19:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15248127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sulkysheep/pseuds/sulkysheep
Summary: It feels like being buried alive. Wet, damp dirt, pinching and filling your lungs, choking on dust and death. You don't have time to count your losses, to sit down and grieve. You just have to keep clawing through nothing but ditches of dirt.





	Coward

And he's nothing but a fucking coward -

It feels like being buried alive. Wet, damp dirt, pinching and filling your lungs, choking on dust and death. You don't have time to count your losses, to sit down and grieve. You just have to keep clawing through nothing but ditches of dirt.

Dean remembers when he crawled out of his grave, after forty years without sun. The sky was _bright_ , bright with mid-day heat and rays. He coughed and spat, hacking up the Earth, before pushing himself out and heaving lungful after lungful of air. He remembers looking around for the first time, seeing trees snapped over like broken toy soldiers, the grass matted and shivering. It’s like a desolate field after a raging storm— absolutely quiet, except the buzz in the air, the residual power shaking up the world around it.

It makes Dean’s teeth clatter, and his spine tingle. He can't make his deadened limbs move fast enough.

He remembers the cracked shingles of the barn clashing and clanging with the force of the wind, as flimsy as cobwebs. The walls shook and it felt like the ground was cracking open, felt like Dean was making a second trip downstairs to revisit all his favorite tourist spots. He gripped his shotgun tighter, burning like a coal in his hands, and slinked closer to Bobby.

The ground only shook worse, beams and supports crumbling, sparks flinging themselves from the shuddering lights as the large wooden doors bolted open with a shattering crack.

In walked a man, or at least, something that resembled one.

And he's nothing but a fucking coward -

Because here he is, years later, running to this man that's way more than _just that_ , seeing the ashy scratches of his glory splayed out like wide, arching wings. Snapped like a broken toy soldier, blank and unmoving, cold and pale.

Dean just kneels, doesn’t give a crap that Sam’s watching, that his whole body is aching and protesting, that the world is turning and spinning and moving too fast. He grabs one, cold, pale hand, and kneels. Feels dirt crowding his lungs, and death hanging in the air.

Because he’s nothing but a _coward_ , and it’s too late.

**Author's Note:**

> and now he’s gone backwards  
> feeling more like a coward  
> and he knows she sees him  
> so he smiles as he walks, he  
> he thinks of her cheeky grin  
> while faking being happy  
> he’s so cold at night  
> as cold as her last breath
> 
> \- Coward, Hayden Calnin
> 
>  
> 
> gl mate, drown in sadness w/ me :(


End file.
